Ross POV

It started out to be a good day.

I loitered near 1PP to catch Eames' press conference only to find out that it had been postponed.

That's good, I thought. Sign your own transfer papers.

Because if there's one thing I know about Holt, it's that he can't stand to reschedule anything, ever.

So I couldn't resist gloating about that a little when I swung by his office to let him know that I'd finished jumping through the hoops and I was now officially back with the department.

"What happened to the press conference this morning?" I asked him after I showed him my badge.

"She postponed it until this afternoon."

"Why?" I asked smugly.

"Why don't you ask her?" he replied gruffly.

"I don't think she's taking my calls right now."

"Can you blame her?" he retorted, finally looking up from his desk. "You know, there's such a thing as finesse, Ross."

And that's when my day started its decline.

"Finesse?" I repeated, surprised by his attitude towards me.

"Yeah, it means having skill at handling a difficult or sensitive situation."

"I know what the word means."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," I bit out, finding his condescension annoying.

"You know, I think you've forgotten one important thing during this whole exercise."

"What's that?"

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law. And guess who's living in that office right now."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you might want to hold off counting those chickens. The way I understand it, Captain Eames has a way of coming through in a pinch."

"Sir, I was under the impression that the job was mine," I said, doing my best not to sound whiny.

"It was yours. Until 2010. Then you had to get involved in that reckless Bureau debacle. She went in and cleaned up your mess and now the job is hers. And she's not too keen on taking over the media job, like I'd hoped, so I'm not sure I'm willing to risk losing her altogether. Hell, I'd be risking losing nearly three dozen exemplary employees. All for what? For you?"

"I can guarantee you that I'll fill those spots and have that department running like a finely-tuned machine within six months."

"Sure. Maybe. But why would I want to wait six months when it's already doing that now, under Captain Eames?"

"She'll cave under the pressure," I posed. "She's not cut out for the daily stress brought on from heading up such a department."

"Don't lie, Ross. It doesn't suit you. And quit trying to get an answer out of me, because I'll give it to you in the morning, in the meeting with Maas and Moran and Eames. Until then, you better hope like hell she blows this afternoon press conference. That's probably the only chance you've got."

I left his office feeling slightly panicked and, for the first time, like maybe things weren't going to go my way.

Even after Monday, after that juvenile resignation stunt, Holt wasn't ready to say no to me. Because he obviously can't trust her, what with the Italians and the suggestion of sexual impropriety.

It was killing me not to know what Eames had up her sleeve for this afternoon, so I decided to make a stop by the morgue.

Liz had mentioned the fact that they're friends now, so she would probably know what was going on.

And of course, I wanted to give Liz a present.

I didn't want her to think that I could ever forget her birthday.

And yeah, so I'd taken her for granted when we dated before, but I was past that now, and she should be, too.

So I figured that a trip to the morgue would could kill two birds with one stone.

I'd get the lowdown on Eames and I'd romance Liz a little, get her to quit thinking about Logan.

But I didn't anticipate the open hostility.

"Plans for what?" I asked, having overheard her talking as I entered the autopsy suite.

"Plans with her boyfriend, Detective Logan," one of Liz's assistants fired at me in a snotty tone.

Logan.

I just can't fathom the draw.

"That's going to be difficult, since he's in the middle of botching a big case right now," I pointed out, trying not to sound too superior, and yet feeling it all the same because there's just no way in hell that FBK case is going to get solved today.

Between him and Goren it was a miracle they made any progress on anything because neither of them know how to tread lightly when the situation warrants.

Goren always had Eames to make him look good and Logan couldn't even hang on to a good partner, so instead he just floundered throughout his entire career, bouncing from one political nightmare to the next.

And at least Goren has a little intelligence on his side.

Logan doesn't even have that.

Another of Liz's assistants tried to play the heavy and get me to leave, but I flashed him my new badge and that shut him up.

And even though Liz sent her minions on their way, things still didn't go like I hoped.

It was almost like she's been brainwashed by Goren and Eames.

And Logan.

"I didn't come here to fight about it, Liz," I said after several minutes of bickering.

And I have to admit, she's stunning when she gets angry.

Just seeing her standing there, in her royal blue scrubs that match her eyes…it made me want to see her out of those scrubs.

I could kick myself now for never having advanced our relationship before, when she was willing, but maybe I could get her to be willing again.

"Then why'd you come?" she asked in that skeptical tone of hers.

"It's your birthday," I told her as I pulled the box from my pocket. "I bought you something."

And that was mostly true.

I hadn't actually bought it for Liz.

I'd bought it for this woman I was seeing in Wisconsin, but before I had the chance to give it to her, the word had come through that I'd be able to return to the city, so I'd decided then that I'd save it and give it to Liz.

It was more her style anyway.

And since yesterday I'd remembered that today was her birthday…it was like fate.

"It's not my birthday."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't fate.

But today's the tenth, right?

"Yes it is," I insisted, and then I realized how ridiculous I sounded, arguing with a woman about her own birthday. "Isn't it?"

"Tomorrow."

Did that mean that today's the ninth?

Or that her birthday isn't until the eleventh?

I wanted to check my watch, but I held off and instead tried to play off the mistake, but she refused the gift.

And then all of a sudden we were in another verbal sparring match and the more I tried to tell her she was wrong about Logan, the madder she got.

"Even if Mike were to walk through that door right now and dump me flat on my ass," she railed. "I still wouldn't want to be with you. Is that clear enough for you?"

Is it possible that I was so wrong about her?

Had she willingly sampled the Kool-Aid?

"Okay," I conceded. "I'm sorry to take up your time. I'll be seeing you around though. As captain of Major Case, you know I'll be making trips to the morgue. I'll do my best not to make it awkward for you."

Because I am going to get that job.

Honestly, it's all I have left.

My boys don't care that I'm back. They have their own lives, and yeah they were glad to see that I wasn't dead, but they have no real interest in spending time with me.

Nancy had married her long-time boyfriend, and what did she have to say about my return?

"That's great, Danny. Did you fake your death so I'd get married and free you up from making alimony payments? I can probably still collect from the time you supposedly died until the time I tied the knot, right? That's about five months, so why don't you just give me five grand and we'll call it even."

And now Liz.

And yeah, I know she rebuffed me last week.

But I'd written that off as her being in shock about my return.

And Sunday, too, when I went to her house.

As dismayed as I was to find Logan there, I wasn't going to begrudge her a last fling with her boy-toy.

Because that's all it could ever be between her and Logan.

As much as I hated to even think about it, it had to just be sex.

She's much too smart and classy for him and she knows that.

Or at least I thought she did.

But today she made it perfectly clear that with or without him, she still doesn't want me.

It didn't hit me until I was back out on the street that I hadn't pumped her for information on the case, and I couldn't decide which I was more upset about.

The smack down from Liz, or the lack of details about what Eames' next move was going to be.

My curiosity was through the roof, so I killed some time during the afternoon, waiting out the four-thirty press conference.

That turned into a four forty-five press conference, and when Eames came out, she looked…self-assured.

Actually, she appeared downright radiant.

And she had the reporters eating out of the palm of her hand.

When did she get so savvy?

And why wasn't Herb calling her out on…something?

He was an old friend, and he'd said that he would expose her for the inexperienced captain that she is.

But he didn't.

And maybe he meant to, I don't know.

Or maybe it was just me getting what I deserve for trying to skew things in my favor.

Because Herb went in for the kill and ended up killing me instead.

"Captain, don't you think it's past time for this FBK to be caught? We're coming up on two weeks and you've still got nothing."

"I've been saying no comment to the FBK questions because my detectives suggested that if the killer was apprised of our progress, then he might go into hiding."

"Which apparently he's done," Herb pointed out cockily, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Actually, he's not hiding," she replied with a smug smile. "Or maybe he is, but if he is, he's hiding under a bunk in the holding cell upstairs."

The flurry was immediate.

"Are you saying an arrest has been made?"

"You've caught the FBK?"

"Can you give us a name?"

"If you'll give me the chance, I'll tell you what you want to know," she stated firmly, and silence instantly fell over the crowd. "An arrest was made and upon further questioning, a full confession was obtained from Riley James Smith of Maywood, New Jersey. He is responsible for the first murder and for inciting the twelve additional killings."

"So he only killed one girl?"

"That's correct, yes. But in an effort to hide his crime, he began a contest, inviting other individuals to kill in the same manner."

"What about these other killers? Are there any leads?"

"All of them are in custody," she announced with barely masked pride.

And there was her rabbit.

I had to walk away at that point because she'd just sealed my fate.

She'd keep Major Case.

And I'd be a joke.

How could I ever earn any respect in another department now that I've been usurped by a subordinate?

I walked four blocks down the street to a pub I used to frequent, and I went inside with the intent of drinking my sorrows away.

Is it too late to go back to Kenosha, I wondered as I waited for the bartender to bring me a double shot of Dewar's.

Because Eric Bannister had been a likeable guy.

Much more so, apparently, than Danny Ross.

So could I go back to being Eric again?

"Hi," the woman next to me said. "I'm Suzie."

"Danny," I replied as I shook her offered hand.

"It's early for a double," she said, nodding at the drink that the bartender placed in front of me. "Bad day?"

"Bad year."

"You want to talk about it?"

I turned and faced her fully, taking in her features.

Blue eyes, but faded…not bright and intelligent like Liz's.

Red hair.

Like Liz's used to be.

She's blonde now, but if she ever came around, I'd get her to change it back.

Logan probably likes it blonde.

He's cheap like that.

The thought of Logan soured my mood even more.

"Or not," Suzie said sharply as she started to turn away from me.

I'd obviously offended her with my frank perusal and lack of response.

"I'm sorry. It's not you," I said lamely as I tossed back the scotch. "It's me."

She rolled her eyes dramatically and made a point of turning on the stool, putting her back to me.

Great.

Even strangers don't want me around.

I decided to carry my pity party home, so I paid my tab and headed for the door, but just as I got ready to push it open, a figure came into view, and then paused at the corner just outside of the door.

It was Goren.

I hesitated, staying inside as he stood outside with his back to the pub.

Now I don't claim to know him well.

And honestly, I don't want to.

As far as I'm concerned, the man's a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic.

But for some reason, the fact that he was loitering on the corner piqued my interest.

Maybe it's because Liz mentioned him today, the idea that she'd pick him over me.

Or maybe it's because he's friends with Logan.

I'm not sure, but whatever my motivation, I stepped sideways and then slid into the booth next to the window, and I suddenly had a gut feeling that maybe my day was taking a turn for the better.

Goren was still just standing at the edge of the street. I watched him as he looked first one way and then the other. I thought maybe he was going to cross the road, but he didn't.

Like I said, he's weird like that.

I was just about ready to give up trying to figure out what the hell he was doing when an SUV pulled up.

And not just any SUV, but an NYPD vehicle.

Why would he have walked away from 1PP, only to be picked up by another employee?

I didn't have a chance to ponder that question any further because at that moment, Goren opened the passenger side door and the interior light came on, illuminating the driver.

Oh my God.

I'd like to be able to say I knew it, but I didn't know.

But I do know one thing.

As of now, I'm right back in the game.

TBC...